


Sound of Silence

by glackedandmullered



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: brief mention of choking, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 00:29:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1206148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glackedandmullered/pseuds/glackedandmullered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompt: Ah ot6 michaels lost his voice</p><p>I may have gone a bit overboard with it<br/>sorry dear</p>
    </blockquote>





	Sound of Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Ah ot6 michaels lost his voice
> 
> I may have gone a bit overboard with it  
> sorry dear

He’d love to be able to say it was because of a cough, a sore throat, something simple. He’d even happily have it be due to something worse like laryngitis or tonsillitis. Anything besides the truth.

The truth was Michael Jones lost his voice because he instigated a fight in a bar with a guy twice his size that he never had a chance against; and that man ended up with his hands around Michaels neck, crushing his throat until no breath could filter past the grip. From what Ray had told him, Ryan had gone looking for him when he heard something was happening, he was right to assume that his boyfriend would be in the centre of the whole thing. He had found Michael struggling for breaths on the cold tarmac; he assumed the attacker had sobered up when he realised he had nearly killed a man and had long since disappeared. Michael was rushed to the hospital and, diagnosed with a bruised larynx he was admitted onto a ward and monitored for 24 hours before he woke up.

He had absolutely no memory beyond shoving the guy out of the way to get to the bar, he vaguely recalled yelling and throwing the first punch but after that it was all a messy blur.

“Careful, you’re still on a lot of drugs.” Jack warned as he helped Michael out of the car outside the house. He wavered on his feet and had to use the car as an anchor to keep his feet level on the ground. He opened his lips to apologise but Jack clapped his hand over the redheads mouth, shushing him hastily.  
“No, no the doctor said no talking. You had a lucky escape but you’re going to have to be careful.”

Michael nodded and allowed Jack to lead him up to the front door where Geoff had already opened it and ushered them inside, immediately directing Michael over to the couch where he snuggled against Gavin’s side and a soft blanket was draped over the two. In the 3 days he had been in hospital he had slept for the better part of all of them but he still felt exhausted and was more than happy to let Gavin’s soft breaths lull him into a deep rest.

He woke up alone on the couch. He had been laid down fully so his head was pillowed on the arm and his feet were tucked up under the blanket too. The sky outside the window was darkening, dusk settling in and he could hear the rustling of pots and pans from the kitchen accompanied by musical laughter and high pitched squealing. He pulled the sheets away from himself and swung his legs over the edge of the couch. He was feeling much more awake than he had been earlier, having finally slept off the drugs in his system but now his throat was throbbing, the heavy bruises sore and painful without the aid of medication to kill the ache. They hadn't let him see what he looked like yet, every chance they got they had steered him away from his reflection, telling him that it would do no good. He knew he looked rough because he hadn't showered at the hospital and it had been a good 3 days since the incident. 

Ray was the first to notice him as he staggered into the kitchen with a breathy yawn. “You’re up!” He cheered, wrapping an arm around him and steering him towards the seats at the island. He hoisted himself up onto one the stools and leaned his chin on his hand as the others greeted him and slid a glass of water across the counter.

Geoffs gaze was lingering on his throat and he reached his free hand up to it gingerly, shielding it from view and diverting his gaze away from the older man.

“Does it hurt?” Ryan asked, catching Michaels attention and quickly amending his question, “Just nod or shake your head.” Michael nodded slowly; he wasn’t in favour of another full day sleeping but the ache would only get worse if he left it. Ryan handed him a couple of white pills, told him to be careful and assured him they were just Tylenol. He was happy. At least that wouldn’t knock him out.

Swallowing wasn’t an easy task, it hurt like hell, like he was swallowing razorblades and he had to take a moment to compose himself once the pills had gone down.

He noticed Geoff leaving out of the corner of his eye, his head down and a mug of coffee in his hand. He didn’t say anything – he couldn’t have if he’d tried – instead he simply enjoyed the chatting company of the rest of his boyfriends as they cleaned up after dinner. He didn’t ask them to make him something, he didn’t want to be a nuisance, not that he felt like eating much anyway.

\---

That night as they climbed into bed Michael retreated to the bathroom, pulling the door closed with a click he shuffled over to the mirror and gasped as he looked up. He was right about his appearance, despite all the sleep he had gotten he was still sporting dark shadows under his eyes, his complexion pale and dry and his hair mussed with grease. The main thing, however, was the condition of this throat. He had expected finger shaped bruises, like people wrote about in books, long thin lines of purple around his throat. Instead it looked like his neck was one large bruise, deep black and purple splotches merging into each other. It was utterly grotesque. He touched a finger to the darkest part tentatively, wincing when pain radiated from deep below his skin.

“You good in there Michael?” Jacks voice filtered through the door and Michael once again opened his mouth to answer when the touch on his throat reminded him that he shouldn’t be doing that yet. He sighed and opened the bathroom door, giving Jack just the fastest of acknowledgements before slumping off down the hall; he heard the bathroom door click shut behind him and let his shoulders drop, the throbbing in his neck getting stronger now the painkillers from earlier were wearing off. Ryan looked up as he entered the bedroom, hair sticking up on one side as he raised his head and lifted the covers, gesturing for Michael to climb in. Which he did, facing away from Ryan and closing his eyes, not wanting to hear any more questions he couldn’t answer. He needn’t have bothered, Ryan didn’t say a word.  
\---

"Sit there and do some editing," Geoff directed, pointing him to his desk while he booted up his own computer. "We're recording so don't make too much noise."   
Michael nodded sadly and smiled when Gavin shuffled his chair as far over as he could while still seeing his monitor and slipped his hand into Michaels.   
"You can't play one handed, Gav." Geoff interrupted and Michael felt the loss of the hand in his like a tear in his heart. 

He spun his chair around to face Geoff, silently begging the man to look back to him, to turn around and acknowledge him. He could see Jack glancing at him over his shoulder while his game loaded but Michael didn't want to look away. Geoff hadn't spoken to him, beyond that one order, since he had returned from the hospital and Michael couldn't stand it. He didn't understand and he could deal with the cold shoulder. Ryan had told him that he shouldn’t be returning to work yet, it had been 2 days since he left the hospital and he wasn’t sure how he was feeling. He spent most of the time lying on the couch or the bed, watching his boyfriends pass him by as they got on with whatever they were doing. But Monday came and Michael didn’t much fancy a day on his own, if he had to suffer through the silence he wanted to do it with people around him. Even people who weren’t very happy with him right now.

Geoff wouldn't even look at him after that, Michael watched him mutter to Jack from across the office and the sad expression on his face when he looked at Michael was devastating. It wasn't hard to ignore Michael when he was silent, he knew that, all they had to do was look away from him and it was like he wasn't there at all.

All it did was make his feel guilty as fuck. He wasn't even sure why he started the fight, sometimes the emotions just took him over and he became more anger than human. It had never caused a rift in their relationship before - they never even mentioned it beyond a laugh in the office after rage quit- but now he felt the sting of it affecting the atmosphere. he assumed that must be it anyway, Geoff wouldn't look at him because he was a rage filled monster and he was only just coming to understand just how bad he was. Jack would go with Geoff to the ends of the earth and he would protect him by any means so he'd be gone soon too. He wasn't sure about the others, ray and Gavin had definitely been quieter since the incident, they weren't laughing nearly as much and their efforts in the recording were lack lustre. He could barely read Ryan at all. He wasn't a particularly loud man, a strong presence of course but not loud so him being quiet wasn't unusual. The lack of touches however, that was a tell. Ryan was definitely a hugger; he craved warm cuddles and the cozy lingering touches and, without them, Michael felt lost. 

\---

He woke up sweating in the middle of the night. Memories of crushing hands plaguing him and making his skin crawl as he lay between Gavin and Ryan, eyes wide and breaths rough. It wasn’t the first nightmare he had experienced since the fight but it was the first one that had awoken him. He wanted to reach over, shake someone, wake them and tell them to hold him until his fear calmed down. Instead he stared up at the ceiling, blinking back tears and desperately begging his body to stop shaking. He couldn’t wake anyone, that would be far from fair; they all had work early and didn’t deserve to have their sleep rudely interrupted.

Eventually he gave up trying to sleep again and instead, as carefully as he could, he shuffled down the bed and off the end, taking a quick glance back over his shoulder to make sure they were all still sleeping. They were. He wandered out of the bedroom, down the stairs and to the kitchen where he pulled out a glass and filled it with cool water from a bottle in the fridge. The house was silent, the only noises coming from the slight breeze outside and it was far from calming. 

It was getting worse, day by day though it had only been a few it just kept feeling more lonely and he had no idea what he could do. He couldn’t even look at himself in the mirror; he had turned into a monster and forced everyone around him to care more than they should and he couldn’t look himself in the eye.  
\---  
By the end of the first week he was about ready to break. He was a hundred per cent sure now that his boys hated him. His temper had been completely taken over by misery and he could barely bring himself to leave the bed on Saturday; not that he needed to.

He felt the bed dip as someone climbed onto the covers beside him, "Michael, wake up love." It was Ryan. He didn't look up, didn't want Ryan to see the moisture in his eyes and on his pillow where the tears had soaked into the fabric. 

"Michael? Are you okay?" Ryan pressed, giving him a tug and forcing him to turn over to face him; resisting was futile, his need for comfort over ruling his want to hide. Ryan saw the puffy redness in his eyes and concern bled onto his features as he swiped away the stray tear that had escaped with his thumb. 

"Is it your throat? Do you need some Tylenol?" He fussed, sitting back on his heels as he studied Michael with worry. The redhead stared ahead, tears running more forcefully down his face and his he had to bite his lip to stop from sobbing. Ryan moaned in frustration which only served to make Michael feel worse.

"I wish I could make you tell me what's wrong but you can't fucking talk." Ryan growled, not breaking eye contact with Michaels teary gaze.

Just like that he couldn't take any more. "Sorry." He rasped out, the words feeling like sandpaper against his throat. 

Ryan shushed him. "No, don't talk, you'll hurt yourself." He pleaded, pulling Michael to his chest and shushing him again.

"I'm so sorry." Michael sobbed, his chest heaving and every breath was wheezing and painful.   
"No love don't, you need to rest your voice." There was pain, not physical but purely emotional, in Ryan's tone but now he had started Michael just couldn't stop. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He cried out over and over, his throat was straining, the bruised skin stretching and aching. He didn't notice Geoff come through the door until he was moving Ryan out of the way and reaching across the bed for the sobbing redhead. 

"Stop it." The authority in Geoffs voice was something that Michael hadn't heard since before they got into a relationship together, it was his frustrated boss voice and it stopped Michael in his tracks.   
"Come here." He instructed, grabbing Michaels arm and tugging him from the bed, ignoring the sounds of protest from Ryan. Michael went with him willingly, not intending to fight him when he was talking to him for the first time in a week. They marched down the hall, Michael stumbling with the force of the grip on his wrist, and Geoff shoved him into the bathroom before shutting the door tight and forcing Michael against the counter, hands on the counter either side of the mans hips.  
“I just need you to listen.” He hissed in a low tone and Michael nodded, gulping anxiously.

“You could have been killed. You know that.” He wasn’t asking and Michael could do nothing but shake with nerves while at the same time revelling in Geoff’s voice that he had missed so much.

“We could have lost you because you’re a hot headed asshole.” He continued, finally meeting Michaels eye and there were tears in the creased corners of the older gents eyes; they were bloodshot and red rimmed but there was a fire of anger behind them. 

"You hate me." Michael whispered painfully and Geoff slammed his left hand down on the counter. 

"Shut up. I don't hate you. Of course I don't hate you, none of us do. Do you think I would give a shit about losing you if I didn't love you? Do you think I'd lie awake at night crying like a fucking baby because I can hear how hard it is for you to breathe through that injury of yours?" He paused and turned away from Michael, his hand coming up to his mouth as his body betrayed him and he sniffed away the tears that were building up, the sobs that were threatening to overcome him. "You risked your life for what? For nothing, that's what. You literally risked your own neck and didn't even think about us. When Ryan came to get me I thought my heart was going to burst from how fast it was beating." 

Michael knew he really should be resting his voice as they had told him, but right now, watching his boyfriend breaking down because of him…he just had to get it out. He had to make Geoff know how bad he felt. “I’m an asshole.”

“Yeah you fucking are.” Geoff agreed, nodding sharply.  
“I’m sorry.” Michael choked out, his voice breaking and he sighed in relief when Geoff wrapped his arms around him and pulled him against this chest.  
“You fucking should be.” The gent mumbled into his shoulder, Michaels shirt was absorbing the man’s tears and he held him as he sobbed, rocking him gently, soothing both the men. Geoff cried until all the anger and pent up frustration had left him and he raised his head only enough for his lips to meet Michaels in a tender kiss.  
“Now seriously shut the fuck up, we need you to keep that voice, it’s the only reason you have a job.” Michael laughed breathily, wiping his watery eyes as he watched Geoff do the same. He ran his finger and thumb over his lips in a zipping motion and Geoff lightly slapped him on the arm before pulling open the bathroom door and pushing past the men gathered so close to it they nearly fell through when it opened. Michael smiled at the grins on their faces and accepted the tackle of hugs that crashed him backwards into the counter once more.


End file.
